Latest news with #DavidBaddiel
Telegraph
3 days ago
- Entertainment
- Telegraph
David Baddiel: ‘I've learnt the world doesn't have to hear my opinion on everything'
Born in New York City in 1964, David Baddiel moved to Britain when he was a baby. He got a double-first at Cambridge before moving to London to be a comedian in the 1980s. Now one of Britain's best-known comedians and TV presenters, he's worked with Frank Skinner, Al Murray and Hugh Dennis, and authored more than 16 books, plays and various sitcoms. He lives with his wife, the actress Morwenna Banks, with whom he has two children, Dolly, 24, and Ezra, 20. Best childhood memory? I had a very weird childhood. My dad was an occasionally funny but emotionally stunted Welsh scientist, and my mother was more flamboyant, and had a decades-long affair with an Alan Partridge-esque golf memorabilia expert. Their three children were often an after-thought. But I look at my childhood as a tragicomic sculpture that made me who I am. Every good childhood memory I've got is ironic. Every summer holiday, we went to stay at my grandparents' in Swansea. It was only years later, when I was in my 20s, that I realised how beautiful the surrounding area was, like Three Cliffs Bay – but we never explored because my parents couldn't be bothered. I remember how excited I was to have a full Welsh breakfast, which may confuse people given I'm Jewish and there's pork in it, but Dad would often cook us bacon sandwiches before sending us off to our Orthodox Jewish primary school. Best lesson you've learnt? The truth is always complex. Without a doubt, my family is an object part of me learning this. The truth is in the detail, and the detail is complex. My mother had a long-term affair and was flagrant about it, and my dad was an angry man in denial about it who later got dementia and got even angrier. This could be viewed negatively, but I'm someone who naturally sees the funny side of things. Life is rich, strange and complex – and for me, ultimately comedic. And that's how I get through life: by viewing challenging times as comedy or with optimism. You can't be at the mercy of your past for the rest of your life. Like Nora Ephron said, 'everything's copy'. Best part of being a parent? I remember going to antenatal classes when Morwenna was pregnant with Dolly, and I said to the teacher, 'This has all been great and very interesting about how to deal with the birth, but what about the next 18 years? Any advice on that?' In retrospect, it was a bit naughty of me to say, but I wish there was more about the afterwards part. Being a parent is brilliant – there's this instinctive empathy for your children in a way you've never felt before. Now I've got a really close relationship with both Dolly and Ezra. I've loved seeing the evolution of their personalities and the adults they've become. I hang out with my kids all the time, and Ezra and I went on holiday just the two of us last year, and then I did the same with Dolly. I'll be bereft when Ezra moves out, because my mate will be gone. Best characteristic or trait? I try to be as honest as possible. I find it very difficult to lie at all, and if I'm telling what I perceive to be the truth, I tell it in extreme detail. So that's why there are lots of footnotes in my book, because I'm constantly clarifying things. I get a sort of physical discomfort not telling the absolute truth in absurd detail, because there's comedy in the detail. It can be annoying for other people because it's exhausting. I developed this trait as a kid because I was constantly defending myself to my mother, so I figured the safest thing was to be as authentic as possible. Best decision? Having kids. When I met Morwenna in our 30s, it wasn't necessarily on the table. And then when we had Dolly, it hit me that I couldn't imagine not having kids. It was what I was put on earth to do. I say that as a fundamentalist atheist who believes there is no purpose to life. I mean, I'm lucky I love what I do – telling stories and making people laugh – but there's no big point to that. Even though I had a chaotic and unusual childhood, and work has kept me busy, having kids is the only thing that has fundamentally changed who I am. Worst trait? I'm not cautious. I'm continuously getting into scrapes and doing things like eating something that is clearly off, but I'll be thinking, 'What's the worst that could happen?' Morwenna once asked if I'd ever thought about saying the second thing that comes into my head. Something I've learnt through social media is the world doesn't have to hear my opinion on everything. I think a lot of people, including myself, could learn that, even if you have the 'right' opinion, it may not be the right thing for you to enter the fray with it. Social media has created a situation whereby everyone thinks they need to express their views. I used to enjoy online debates, but it's become one big jar of constant fighting, and there's no point in joining in, because it'll just increase the toxicity. Worst advice? The constant advice from my dad that the sciences – maths, physics and chemistry – were the only A-levels worth doing because that's where the real cerebral work is done. He'd got himself out of poverty by doing a PhD in chemistry. Never mind that I was terrible at those subjects; I was going to do them anyway because my dad hadn't really given me any option. My brother Ivor had taken them just before me and had done badly, but Dad was determined. One of my teachers took me aside and told me, 'You're not an idiot. You're getting As for history and English, and Cs and Ds in maths and physics.' I was frightened of telling Dad. In the end, I did English, history and economics – economics was enough of a pseudoscience to keep him vaguely happy. He told me I was wasting my brain. Worst thing in the news? The technology that we have now has helped fray the truth. Truth was never completely objective, as it has been handed down by authorities over the centuries who were biased in various ways, whether it was the state or religion. The prevalence of social media has reinforced that everyone's personal truth is as important as everyone else's, and needs to be expressed. I think when the internet started, it seemed like a good platform to share knowledge and reasonable debate, which would lead to progress. But what it's done more recently is decrease the sum of truth, because it's warped truth to a mad extent that no one can say what is true and what isn't without someone bullying and humiliating them in disagreement. That in turn leads to destabilisation of countries and society, and allows people who shout the loudest to feel like they are the owners of the truth and questionable people to capitalise on insecurities and gain power. Worst pet peeve? What really annoys me is when people are seemingly passionate about something that I feel they don't really believe in or understand. It's like they're performing their opinion because it's how they think they should appear or feel about something. People are trying too hard to fall into line, without properly informing themselves. The internet has created a monster, because we're not meant to constantly air our opinions. When someone tells you you're wrong or believes differently, we don't suddenly think, 'Oh, maybe I am wrong'; rather it's, 'I've been humiliated, he's belittling my identity, and I need to fight back.' People confuse identity and opinion, which then pushes them to join every argument to which they're invited. Worst fear for the future? I'm worried about the world that my children are growing up in. Their generation has so much potential, despite the criticism they get, but everything seems so unpredictable right now. I'm also frightened of mortality, and I talk about this a lot. As a storyteller, I don't want mine to end. I love life, irrespective of how s--- things are. But my life is beset by regret because I'm constantly messing things up.
BBC News
17-06-2025
- Entertainment
- BBC News
Big names heading to Leeds for International Festival of Ideas
Comedian David Baddiel, rapper Chuck D and journalist Victoria Derbyshire will be among the big names to appear at this year's Leeds International Festival of Ideas (LIFI), organisers have taking part would be writer Sally Wainwright, talking about her new Hebden Bridge-based TV drama, I Predict A Riot, along with Tamsin Greig, one of the show's festival, between 14-18 October, was expected to feature talks, discussions and performances tackling some of society's biggest questions, organisers director Martin Dickson said this year's event, also featuring Vicky McClure, Myleene Klass and Caitlin Moran, would be "the most urgent and exciting edition yet". "In an increasingly polarised world, we need safe spaces to explore difficult topics with empathy, expertise and a sense of hope," he said. Baddiel, who is also an author and podcaster, was expected to explore faith, division and identity in Is Religion the Ultimate Culture War? which would take place at Leeds Playhouse on 16 October, according to the festival's Public Enemy frontman Chuck D would take part in How Hip-Hop Changed the World, a conversation with broadcaster Nihal Arthanayake at the same venue on 14 etiquette expert and podcaster William Hanson was expected to present Manners Cost Nowt, an exploration of what counts as good manners, and why they still events would include Our Dementia Choir Live, with Vicky McClure bringing her inspiring project to Leeds with a mix of music and conversation, while Fara Williams MBE, Verity Smith and Emily Campbell would take part in How Level is the Playing Field? - a debate on gender equality in Dickson said: "This year's line-up reflects the richness of public discourse, from legendary cultural icons to everyday change-makers, all ready to challenge ideas, share truths and spark curiosity. "Leeds has always been a city of voices. LIFI is where they come together." Listen to highlights from West Yorkshire on BBC Sounds, catch up with the latest episode of Look North.
Times
11-06-2025
- Times
The UK beaches loved by Caitlin Moran, Alan Titchmarsh and more
What makes a good beach? For some it must be wild and secluded; for others the priority is having a good chippy nearby. And for many of us, it's the memories associated with a place that matter more than anything. Memories of family outings to the seaside where you'd go paddling with your mum, buy huge ice creams and run for cover when the weather turned. As we gear up for our annual guide to the best UK beaches, David Baddiel, Val McDermid, Alan Titchmarsh and others choose the places that mean most to them. We were a big hippy family in a Volkswagen caravanette, driving the entire length of Cardigan Bay, trying to find 'our' beach. My father's stipulations were simple: he didn't want to see anyone else. It should be a beach with only us on it. He was not a very sociable man. When the tide goes out, Ynyslas is two miles wide and a mile to the sea: if there were any other people there, they were just tiny black dots on the horizon. We would turn up as the tide turned, then follow it out: every twenty minutes, there would be something new. Huge pools you could swim in; descending clouds of shrill oystercatchers. Shells and pebbles, and flat wet sand we could all draw tits and willies on with sticks. • 15 of the best hotels in Wales We would be out there all day — sunburning on a sand bar in the middle of Cardigan Bay. In the distance you could see Snowdonia (which we never went to) and Pembrokeshire (which we never went to). We never wanted to go anywhere else because we had found the best beach: nothing could ever be more beautiful than a day spent on this empty, bird-filled beach. If the wind got up, it would send vast lines of dry sand snaking across the beach — it would flay your legs like sandpaper. We would all sit down in a huddle, like penguins, until it stopped. We liked how savage it could sometimes be. We were all under 12 years old. It made us feel like global explorers, even though we were less than a mile from pasties in the Spar. • 16 of the best beaches in Wales The locals said you could sometimes see whales migrating. We would stand on the top of the sand dunes, looking out, trying to spot them. Once, we thought we had seen a school of hundreds — until our father explained that those shapes were just the reflections of rain clouds. I think we all still privately think we did see whales. It felt like they were whales. Just us, and the whales, and the sand. I am half-Welsh, and every summer when I was a child our family went to Swansea. But the beach I want to recommend is not the one we always went to, Swansea Bay (where in my memory the tide went out so far that getting to the sea was like walking back to England) but one we never visited: Three Cliffs Bay in the Gower peninsula. Of all the beaches in the UK, it is the one that most feels like nature was really thinking about it. The towering limestone cliffs surround the sand like a stage set, their three-ness creating a sense that the rushing waves of the sea are breaking the fourth wall in God's own theatre. I went there with friends in my twenties and couldn't believe the beauty. And also that my parents were so deeply unbothered with beauty that they could never be f***ed to drive 30 minutes out of Swansea to see it. David Baddiel's My Family: The Memoir is out now in paperback • Revealed: 100 Best Places to Stay in the UK for 2025 I first visited Achmelvich, on Scotland's west coast north of Lochinver, 52 years ago, in the summer before university. It's had a special place in my heart ever since. It's a glorious crescent of white sand and it's almost always empty. That it's nearly always lashing with rain in that part of the Highlands has never put me off — in fact I think it adds to the experience. When it's pouring with rain the beach has a raw beauty and when the sun does make a rare appearance it makes it look like the Med. I feel like a traitor for telling you this, but just around the corner from Camber Sands is Greatstone in Kent, and it is magnificent. It has the same long, golden dunes of Camber, but almost zero people whatsoever. Whenever you turn up you might find a clutch of dog walkers, maybe some horse riders, but that's about it. I discovered Greatstone during lockdown — I ended up taking my children there most mornings — and so it still feels a bit like my little secret. So go by all means, just don't tell anyone. Essex has some lovely beaches, around Point Clear past St Osyth, and we're very fond of parts of north Norfolk, Hope Cove in south Devon and the areas near Lynton and Lynmouth in the north of the county. But we had a beach hut at Thorpe Bay, Southend. Pebbles, crabs, cold water and a treacherous tide that came in quick and encircled those who walked out too far. But we could play cricket on the green behind and my nan would cook a full roast dinner on a Calor gas stove because she was crackers. I've always thought beaches are about the people, not the sand. Forget sunsets, Aldeburgh on the east coast is all about sunrise. The beach is empty then, but for doughty year-round swimmers, a horizontal line of grey shingle with often-matching sky and sea. I love seeing the fishermen's boats returning to sell their catch in wooden huts, and walking south to the Martello tower where you're sandwiched between river and sea. Aldeburgh beach is hard on the feet, the water is icy even in June. It's an acquired taste, pleasingly austere. • 15 of the most beautiful places in England Just below the Minack Theatre at Porthcurno in Cornwall is the most glorious arc of creamy white sand that leads down to an azure sea. Dolphins leap through the waves and high above is the theatre, nestled among the rocks. It really is a little bit of paradise. Porthcurno Beach is the one for me. • Best beaches in Cornwall King Edward's Bay is a rather lovely beach, just below Tynemouth. The sand is golden, the water usually as calm as it is deep blue. But a great beach is transformed into a legendary one by Riley's Fish Shack, which sits above it and serves some of the best seafood in the country. And on a beautiful summer's day, when the sun gleams off the water, and you're tucking into grilled local lobster, langoustines and a Craster kipper wrap, there's nowhere I'd rather be on earth. • Tom Parker Bowles: 'Our villa chef was a secret press informer' Drive past the ponies, heather and gorse of Exmoor and you finally come to the hidden beaches of north Devon, perfect, as Agatha Christie discovered, for surfing, rock pooling, sandcastles and sandy sandwiches. My favourite is Saunton Sands, three and a half miles and two and a half million square metres of gold sand, used to practise for the D-Day landings. In winter you can gallop on horses through its waves and walk the dogs. In the summer, there's an ice-cream shop, an ace café and well stocked beach huts to rent for £30 a day. The nearest village is miles away and its dunes and cliffs are protected by the Unesco North Devon biosphere reserve. The Times and Sunday Times UK Beach guide will reveal the 50 best beaches around the country. It will be available online on July 7 and in print on July 13 Let us know your favourite beach in the comments below
Times
10-06-2025
- Times
The UK beaches loved by Janice Turner, Alan Titchmarsh and more
What makes a good beach? For some it must be wild and secluded; for others the priority is having a good chippy nearby. And for many of us, it's the memories associated with a place that matter more than anything. Memories of family outings to the seaside where you'd go paddling with your mum, buy huge ice creams and run for cover when the weather turned. As we gear up for our annual guide to the best UK beaches, David Baddiel, Val McDermid, Alan Titchmarsh and others choose the places that mean most to them. We were a big hippy family in a Volkswagen caravanette, driving the entire length of Cardigan Bay, trying to find 'our' beach. My father's stipulations were simple: he didn't want to see anyone else. It should be a beach with only us on it. He was not a very sociable man. When the tide goes out, Ynyslas is two miles wide and a mile to the sea: if there were any other people there, they were just tiny black dots on the horizon. We would turn up as the tide turned, then follow it out: every twenty minutes, there would be something new. Huge pools you could swim in; descending clouds of shrill oystercatchers. Shells and pebbles, and flat wet sand we could all draw tits and willies on with sticks. • 15 of the best hotels in Wales We would be out there all day — sunburning on a sand bar in the middle of Cardigan Bay. In the distance you could see Snowdonia (which we never went to) and Pembrokeshire (which we never went to). We never wanted to go anywhere else because we had found the best beach: nothing could ever be more beautiful than a day spent on this empty, bird-filled beach. If the wind got up, it would send vast lines of dry sand snaking across the beach — it would flay your legs like sandpaper. We would all sit down in a huddle, like penguins, until it stopped. We liked how savage it could sometimes be. We were all under 12 years old. It made us feel like global explorers, even though we were less than a mile from pasties in the Spar. • 16 of the best beaches in Wales The locals said you could sometimes see whales migrating. We would stand on the top of the sand dunes, looking out, trying to spot them. Once, we thought we had seen a school of hundreds — until our father explained that those shapes were just the reflections of rain clouds. I think we all still privately think we did see whales. It felt like they were whales. Just us, and the whales, and the sand. I am half-Welsh, and every summer when I was a child our family went to Swansea. But the beach I want to recommend is not the one we always went to, Swansea Bay (where in my memory the tide went out so far that getting to the sea was like walking back to England) but one we never visited: Three Cliffs Bay in the Gower peninsula. Of all the beaches in the UK, it is the one that most feels like nature was really thinking about it. The towering limestone cliffs surround the sand like a stage set, their three-ness creating a sense that the rushing waves of the sea are breaking the fourth wall in God's own theatre. I went there with friends in my twenties and couldn't believe the beauty. And also that my parents were so deeply unbothered with beauty that they could never be f***ed to drive 30 minutes out of Swansea to see it. David Baddiel's My Family: The Memoir is out now in paperback • Revealed: 100 Best Places to Stay in the UK for 2025 I first visited Achmelvich, on Scotland's west coast north of Lochinver, 52 years ago, in the summer before university. It's had a special place in my heart ever since. It's a glorious crescent of white sand and it's almost always empty. That it's nearly always lashing with rain in that part of the Highlands has never put me off — in fact I think it adds to the experience. When it's pouring with rain the beach has a raw beauty and when the sun does make a rare appearance it makes it look like the Med. I feel like a traitor for telling you this, but just around the corner from Camber Sands is Greatstone in Kent, and it is magnificent. It has the same long, golden dunes of Camber, but almost zero people whatsoever. Whenever you turn up you might find a clutch of dog walkers, maybe some horse riders, but that's about it. I discovered Greatstone during lockdown — I ended up taking my children there most mornings — and so it still feels a bit like my little secret. So go by all means, just don't tell anyone. Essex has some lovely beaches, around Point Clear past St Osyth, and we're very fond of parts of north Norfolk, Hope Cove in south Devon and the areas near Lynton and Lynmouth in the north of the county. But we had a beach hut at Thorpe Bay, Southend. Pebbles, crabs, cold water and a treacherous tide that came in quick and encircled those who walked out too far. But we could play cricket on the green behind and my nan would cook a full roast dinner on a Calor gas stove because she was crackers. I've always thought beaches are about the people, not the sand. Forget sunsets, Aldeburgh on the east coast is all about sunrise. The beach is empty then, but for doughty year-round swimmers, a horizontal line of grey shingle with often-matching sky and sea. I love seeing the fishermen's boats returning to sell their catch in wooden huts, and walking south to the Martello tower where you're sandwiched between river and sea. Aldeburgh beach is hard on the feet, the water is icy even in June. It's an acquired taste, pleasingly austere. • 15 of the most beautiful places in England Just below the Minack Theatre at Porthcurno in Cornwall is the most glorious arc of creamy white sand that leads down to an azure sea. Dolphins leap through the waves and high above is the theatre, nestled among the rocks. It really is a little bit of paradise. Porthcurno Beach is the one for me. • Best beaches in Cornwall King Edward's Bay is a rather lovely beach, just below Tynemouth. The sand is golden, the water usually as calm as it is deep blue. But a great beach is transformed into a legendary one by Riley's Fish Shack, which sits above it and serves some of the best seafood in the country. And on a beautiful summer's day, when the sun gleams off the water, and you're tucking into grilled local lobster, langoustines and a Craster kipper wrap, there's nowhere I'd rather be on earth. • Tom Parker Bowles: 'Our villa chef was a secret press informer' Drive past the ponies, heather and gorse of Exmoor and you finally come to the hidden beaches of north Devon, perfect, as Agatha Christie discovered, for surfing, rock pooling, sandcastles and sandy sandwiches. My favourite is Saunton Sands, three and a half miles and two and a half million square metres of gold sand, used to practise for the D-Day landings. In winter you can gallop on horses through its waves and walk the dogs. In the summer, there's an ice-cream shop, an ace café and well stocked beach huts to rent for £30 a day. The nearest village is miles away and its dunes and cliffs are protected by the Unesco North Devon biosphere reserve. The Times and Sunday Times UK Beach guide will reveal the 50 best beaches around the country. It will be available online on July 7 and in print on July 13 Let us know your favourite beach in the comments below
Yahoo
31-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Writer and comedian of hit BBC 90s show comes up north as part of tour
Rob Newman, best known for the sketch show The Mary Whitehouse Experience will be coming up north as part of a 2025/26 tour. Rob, who paired with David Baddiel for the hit comedy series will be taking to the stage in Chorley and The Lowry Theatre. The BBC 2 show won both Rob and David a legion of fans, and the duo were the first comedians to play and sell out the 12,000-seat Wembley Arena in London in 1993. They starred alongside Steve Punt and Hugh Dennis in The Mary Whitehouse Experience in the 1990s, before getting their own show, Newman and Baddiel in Pieces. Rob then pursued a literary career before returning to comedy with an added political edge. His blend of lecture and stand-up has seen him cover topics such as evolution, the war on terror and the history of oil. Rob will be embarking on his Where the Wild Things Were tour this year, heading to Chorley Theatre on January 17 and The Lowry on Sunday, February 1. The promo material for the show states: "From Rob Newman comes a barnstorming new stand-up show about where we are and where we're going. From future cities and philistine film directors to Dorothy Parker's Multiverse Diaries. Throw in Pythagorean gangsters, intellectual bingo callers and a crazy character called Arlo - and the result is a hilarious tour-de force utterly unlike anything else you will ever see anywhere else!" For tickets are more information visit the theatre websites. Rob and David went their separate ways until the two were pictured together after Rob got back in touch via Twitter in 2017, after Rob requested tickets to see David's theatre show.
